Everyday life as a Domina

Tag Archives: pain

Kazander has been mouthing off lately. Night before last, he was particularly stupid, and it finally plucked my last nerve.

Long story short, it deteriorated into a fight, and ended with both of us realizing that we could’ve handled things differently. Still he promised to stop mouthing off, and that obnoxious, alpha-male, my-dick-my-dick attitude is gone. We purchased a new chastity cage last night, and hopefully it’ll be comfortable enough for him to wear 24/7, rather than having to take it off at night, like we have to do now. We’ll have to wait and see when it gets in. I hope it works, though. He’s much less obnoxious when he’s caged up.

So we resolved the argument and headed to the bedroom to go to sleep. And then he surprised me by kneeling at the side of the bed and asking me to punish him. I think that’s happened, like, twice, in the entire time I’ve known him. My sweet kazander is not a masochist, in any sense. He definitely doesn’t enjoy pain, and he will usually try to do anything he can to get out of being punished.

So to have him actually ask for it was a surprise. I was sure as hell going to take advantage of that, though.

I spanked him — hard — until my hand hurt badly enough that I needed to take a break.

God, but I love his ass.

I know that doesn’t look like much, but believe me, it was enough for him. He kept his face hidden, but at one point it really sounded like he was crying. And he was doing this twitching, squirming thing that I’d never seen him do before. It was pretty sexy.

After I finished that, I sat on the bed beside him and gently ran my fingertips up and down his back while he recovered. It was a long, long time before he finally straightened up to ask for a hug. I don’t think I’ve ever spanked him that hard, for that long, before.

But he wasn’t done. When he got up, he surprised me again by going to the dresser and pulling out a pair of lacy panties, the ones that are actually made for men, the ones that I’d bought just for him. He doesn’t often offer to wear them, and since we only have one pair (so far) I don’t really make him do it.

Aww, so cute

But that night, he put them on, and climbed into bed, cuddling up to me. The effect that the spankings had on him was so awesome, I decided right then and there that I was going to start doing maintenance spankings every evening, before we go to bed. Nothing nearly as severe as his punishment, but just enough to remind him who and what he is, and what will happen if he starts getting stupid again. I think it’s a fabulous idea. And really, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.

This is something that I’ve avoided writing about, because it’s not a particularly pleasant topic. But it’s late, kazander just went to bed, and my head is buzzing. And since I don’t have many friends in the D/s lifestyle that I can talk to about this, you folks are the poor souls who get to read it.

We were sitting on the couch before bed, me edging him and talking down to him, when I made the comment, “I don’t know what your hang-up is about cuckolding, anyway.”

It was meant as a smart-ass, sarcastic, half-joking remark, but suddenly I felt this realization hit me like a tsunami, and for a moment, I felt like I was drowning.

Yes I do. I know exactly what his hang-up is. And I’ve known from Day One.

First, a little backstory. The first night I went to meet Rocky, kazander did not react well. Oh, he was fine that night, when I came home and completely devoured him. But the next day (Wednesday), when he came home from work, he wasn’t in a good mood and hardly said two words the entire night. Because he seemed fine the night before, I just assumed it was because he’d had a really bad day at work. It’s not uncommon for work to leave him in a foul mood, and the only thing to do is give him space and wait for him to calm down. So Wednesday, I had no idea anything was wrong.

Thursday, though, I knew. When he came home in a foul mood again and didn’t talk to me again, I knew exactly what was going on. But he said he didn’t want to talk about it, wouldn’t even admit that he was upset about it, and with both of us having pretty intense tempers, we know not to push the issue if something’s bothering either of us. We have to wait until the other has calmed down enough and begins the discussion.

So I waited.

Friday, when he still wasn’t talking, and had rejected my sexual advances, I was starting to get worried. But late Friday night, my best friend and her husband came over, and he started to open up a bit. After they left, he got quiet again. This time, when I asked him what was wrong, though, he at least (finally) confirmed what I already knew. He was angry about what happened Tuesday, and he still wasn’t ready to talk about it. But he promised that we would talk the next day.

So Saturday night, after I put the baby to bed, we finally talked it out. He realized that his fears and anger were unfounded and he would’ve fucking known that, had he talked to me in the first place, instead of pouting like a goddamn child for four fucking days.

Yeah, I’m still bitter about it. He told me that he was sorry for the way he acted, and I told him that I understand why he got so upset (which is true) and that I forgive him (which I thought was true, until tonight). I also apologized for not realizing that I had crossed a line by going up to Rocky’s hotel room, which I genuinely meant. There was a lack of communication on both our parts (probably mostly mine, but I’ll get to that in a minute) and while I didn’t see a problem with it, he did.

But I’m left with a bitter taste in my mouth, and here’s why.

Honestly, I should’ve checked with him before going to Rocky’s room. But, to be frank, it didn’t occur to me. It didn’t occur to me because I knew nothing was going to happen, Rocky knew nothing was going to happen, and kazander knew nothing was going to happen. On top of that, Rocky and I spent the whole time texting kazander. Didn’t leave much time for anything else. It also didn’t occur to me because kazander didn’t say anything during the texting or when I got home that night. We employ the use of safewords, and kazander knew that all he needed to do was text “red” and I would’ve left without another word. That didn’t happen, so I assumed (foolish and irresponsible of me, I know) that everything was fine.

But here’s the biggest reason why it didn’t occur to me that I was crossing a line. I trust kazander fully, completely, and whole-heartedly. I trust him with my life, my heart, my mind, my soul. We’ve never lied to each other, and I have absolute faith in him.

I guess I expected him to have that same faith in me.

To me, it wouldn’t have mattered if I was sitting on Rocky’s couch completely naked, fucking myself with a cucumber. I knew nothing was happening, that I wouldn’t betray kazander’s trust, and that there was no risk of anything happening that kazander and I agreed would not happen.

So it didn’t even occur to me that he would be uncomfortable with me being in Rocky’s room (or that he wouldn’t say anything about being uncomfortable until four fucking days later). I was sticking to our agreement, and I assumed kazander would trust me.

But really, it’s no surprise that he doesn’t. I’ve known that kazander doesn’t trust me since the very beginning of our relationship. Sure, he trusts me to tie him up and beat him, or fuck him, or humiliate him. That’s just physical stuff. That’s easy. But it took a very long time for him to trust me with his heart, to trust that I won’t up and leave him tomorrow. And I thought, after years together, and having his fucking child, we had gotten past that. He told me he had gotten past his fear of me leaving him.

I knew it would take time, though. He’s never been treated well by members of the fairer sex, and even after I got pregnant, there was a HUGE part of him that was waiting for me to leave. He assumed that I was only with him until the next big thing came along. I knew that it would take time to gain his trust and assure him that I’m here forever. So I was patient (which definitely, definitely isn’t one of my strong suits. Still, he was worth it, and for once, being patient came easy).

When my best friend married her husband, kazander and I handed the baby off to his sister and we had a night alone in the hotel room we’d gotten. Then, I asked him if he still felt the same way, and he said that he wasn’t afraid of me leaving him anymore. And (silly me) I took him at his word. It was probably one of the best feelings I’d ever had.

Seriously, that comment meant more to me than the birth of my own daughter. To me, it signified years of work, of assuring him and reassuring him that he had no chance of losing me had finally paid off. I’d finally earned his complete trust. I finally owned his heart, mind, and soul, and not just his body.

One comment he made that Saturday night made all that warm fuzzy crap disappear entirely.

“How do you know that, in a year or two years or five years, you won’t decide to leave me for Rocky?”

And you know what? I’ve never lied to him. I had to answer truthfully. I don’t know. There’s no way to know that.

Other than the fact that Rocky is already married, has children of his own, and lives on the other side of the country. But anything can happen in five years. I have to give him that. Five years ago, if you had told me that kazander would be the man I marry and the future father of my child, I would’ve stood there in shock, staring at you like you have four heads. You never know what could happen. Rocky and I could fall in love, leave our respective partners, and run away together.

Or I could meet a cute single dad at the park where I take the baby. Or I could fall for one of kazander’s buddies or coworkers. Or I could fall in love with the stripper we’ve gone to see and run off with her.

Or he could fall in love with said stripper (she’s gorgeous, smart, and funny. She’s a real catch for the one lucky enough to snag her) and leave me out in the cold.

Or maybe the woman he was once in love with (I’ll call her Cheating, Lying, Drug-Addicted Whore Who Should Have Been Sterilized At Birth) will finally decide she wants him, and he’ll leave me for her.

*Keep in mind he’s actually proposed to this woman. I had to strong-arm him into agreeing to marry me. And I’ve never treated him so abysmally, the way she did. How’s that for masochism?*

Or maybe he, like both of his siblings, will decide to cheat on me. And think about this one for a minute. They all have self-image and self-esteem issues, they’re all submissive, and two out of three cheat on their spouses. That’s quite a few eerie similarities. And he’s been working late a lot lately. Hmmm…..

Sound ridiculous? Yeah, I thought so.

And this is what kills me. If I were to come to him genuinely with these concerns (especially the one about him cheating on me because his sisters cheat on their husbands) he would probably slap me for being so ridiculous, Domme or not.

And that is fact. Once, he suddenly started calling me by my name (we’ve always, always used pet names, like “babe, baby, etc.” I’m serious. It sounds weird hearing him say my name, because we never address each other that way). My very first boyfriend in high school started doing that a week or so before breaking up with me. When I asked him about it, he damn near threatened to leave me if I didn’t get my insecurity under control. I had to remind him that for weeks before our first Christmas together, he asked me repeatedly if I really loved him, and if I was going to leave him on Christmas Day, because the last girl he’d really been attached to broke up with him on Christmas. Didn’t matter that I was pregnant with his kid at the time.

So he would think those concerns are ridiculous and let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I’m an idiot for even entertaining the notion. And yet, here he is, entertaining that very same notion. For four goddamn years.

So his comment about the possible future in which I fall in love and run off with Rocky completely deflated me. Sure, that could happen. And shit could fall from the sky.

I’m coming off a bit harshly, and I know that. And I also know that he’s been trying very, very hard to trust me the way I trust him. And I appreciate his effort. I really do. This post isn’t meant to be insulting to him. It’s just a rant of my own frustration.

I’ve never felt insecure in our relationship. Perhaps it’s because a part of me thinks I’m out of his league. I’ve said it before. I have a fantastic self image. Because of that, I tend to think I’m out of a lot of guys’ leagues. But mostly, it’s because I know, beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt, that he loves me and only me. I know that he doesn’t want anyone else.

That’s why I’ve never felt insecure or jealous when he plays with other women. Quite the opposite, I think it’s a massive turn-on. I loved when another Domme played with him. And I really, really loved when, after bragging about his oral skills to afore-mentioned stripper, we got a back room and he showed her just what I was talking about. Grabbing his hair and forcing him between her legs was incredibly hot.

It turns me on because it doesn’t even occur to me that he could start to like her more than me. I know that I’m his world, and that he’d never let me go. And I thought he knew that I felt the same way.

It’s fucking irritating. And it goes beyond typical cuckold angst. It’s a huge issue. So huge, in fact, that on that Saturday, I immediately told him we’d stop the cuckold thing. Wait until we have a better foundation.

He was the one that insisted on at least meeting Rocky and seeing where things go. Even after I reiterated that it’s probably not the best idea, he insisted on at least meeting Rocky, even if it went no further than that.

Excuse me? What the fuck? Can we say “mixed signals,” everyone?

But that’s what it is. He still doesn’t believe that I really, really want to be with him, and that he’s the one who has my entire heart. After all our years together, after assuring me that he was finally confident in our relationship, he’s still insecure to the point of not fucking talking to me for four fucking days, because Rocky’s more successful, he’s wealthy, he can afford suites at a nice hotel, because he’s good-looking, because he’s in the age range that I usually gravitate towards (I like older men. I guess kazander forgot that he’s almost a fucking decade older than I am).

I guess what it boils down to is that I wish he had the same faith in me that I have in him. And let me tell you from four fucking years’ experience. It really, really fucking sucks to know that the person you’re going to marry doesn’t have faith in you.

It pisses me the fuck off. It really does. I know he can’t just flip a switch and make himself trust me. I know that. And yet, have the past four years of fidelity, honesty, and unconditional love meant nothing? Somewhere, in a deep, dark part of him that he’s kept hidden from me, does he still think I’m one hot rich guy away from leaving him?

I don’t fucking care that kazander can’t buy me the diamonds or the fancy purses and shoes (I’m not a big shoe- or purse-lover, anyway), or that we don’t rub elbows with the upper echelon of society. I’m perfectly happy in my upper-middle-class home with my upper-middle-class income and the nice, expensive house that forces us to budget our money accordingly. We’ve never really hurt for spending money, anyway.

But even if we didn’t have all that, I don’t fucking care. I’d happily live in a run-down shack in North Vegas, where they have to put bars on their windows, and where your next-door neighbor could be hiding a meth-lab in his flood-damaged basement. I don’t care.

What he doesn’t seem to get is that none of that crap matters, as long as I’m with him. He looks at himself in the mirror and sees someone who isn’t worthy of my time or my love. And oh my fucking God, I want to beat him every color of the rainbow for that.

I wish he could see himself through my eyes. Just for a day. Hell, just for ten fucking minutes. That’s all it would take, and his insecurities would disappear instantly, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this ridiculous nonsense. Just ten minutes of seeing himself the way I see him, and he’d be just as comfortable with me playing with other men as I am with him playing with other women. He wouldn’t be threatened by the fact that I’m attracted to Rocky because he would know there’s no threat.

That’s exactly why I’m okay with the fact that he’s attracted to Sexy Stripper, and why I’m okay with the fact that one of his best and oldest friends is another, infinitely hotter stripper (That’s not an exaggeration. Think Anne Hathaway, but taller, paler, and maybe an extra ten pounds, all in her boobs. Stunning. Absolutely, breathtakingly stunning. Seriously, there are no words in this language or any other that can do her justice. I’m willing to bet money she’s one of the top ten most beautiful women in the world). I’m not threatened by that because I know who owns his heart.

So why hasn’t he figured out yet that he owns mine? No amount of money, no amount of success or attractiveness could possibly be enough to take me away from him. I know he feels that way about me. Why hasn’t he figured out yet that I feel the same for him?

Why hasn’t he figured out yet that he is my whole world?

The more I think about it, the more I’m thinking that I really should tell Rocky that the cuckold thing isn’t going to happen. If kazander still, after four fucking years, is insecure in our relationship, me playing with another man will do nothing but harm us.

Even though he’s okay with me playing with another woman. Even though seeing me finger Sexy Stripper and sucking her nipples turned him on. Even though he wants to bring another submissive female into our relationship. Because the possibility of me falling in love and running off with another woman doesn’t bother him.

Because fuck you, that’s man-logic.

And you know what? Man-logic is starting to get old. Insecurity and a lack of faith in me is starting to get old. The lack of confidence in our relationship, the thought that I’m really petty enough to up and leave him is getting old. The fear that I’m going to fall in love and run off with some already-married rich dude I’ve met fucking once is starting to get old. Going back to issues I thought we’d gotten past two fucking years ago is starting to get old.

I’m done with being patient. I’ve been patient for four goddamn years. I’ve been absolutely, completely his for four goddamn years. I’ve trusted him for four goddamn years, knowing that he didn’t trust me the same way, and burying the hurt I felt about that. Being hurt and wallowing in misery would’ve done nothing to help earn his trust, and I knew that. So I turned that emotion off (I can do that, thanks to inheriting my father’s emotional constipation) and refused to feel it. Sometimes, mostly when I was drunk, it would surface again, but it was relatively easy to turn back off once I sobered up.

The not-wanting-to-marry-me-even-though-we-had-a-kid-together thing was harder to repress. Part of that was due to my Catholic upbringing (and the fact that I’m still a devout Catholic, and Catholics just don’t have kids out of wedlock). But mostly it was due to the fact that I loved him enough to want to take that leap, and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel the same way.

Especially when he once proposed to Cheating, Lying, Drug-Addicted Whore Who Should’ve Been Sterilized At Birth. I mean seriously? He wanted to marry her, but not me? The way she treated him, the way she lied to him and used him was absolutely appalling, and yet that is more appealing than me? I’m younger, hotter, and a hell of a lot smarter, and yet he still didn’t want to take that step with me.

Every couple of months or so, I’d bring it up. And every couple of months or so, he’d assure me that he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, but he wasn’t ready for that step.

Finally, I’d had enough of waiting. If we were grown-up enough to have a kid together, God damn it we were grown-up enough to get married. I finally bought him a ring and proposed to him (but I didn’t get down on one knee, thankyouverymuch).

We’ll ignore the fact that he didn’t wear the damn thing until I brought that fact, along with a few other things, up last weekend. And I proposed (and he accepted) months and months ago. I’m pretty sure it was 2012, although I could be wrong and it could’ve been the very beginning of 2013. Still, I’m pretty sure it was near the end of last year. And it took me practically demanding it months later for him to finally wear it.

And, deep down in a part of me that I didn’t want to acknowledge, I’ve always known the reason for his hesitancy. It’s because he still doesn’t trust me. But I guess I buried that and didn’t want to acknowledge that that’s the reason why he was so reluctant to marry me.

So which one of us should really be the one fighting with insecurity here? Which one of us should really be nervous and afraid seeing our partner play with others?

And yet, the one time I felt the tiniest twinge of insecurity about our relationship, I was told that it was ludicrous.

Don’t get me wrong, here. I’m not insecure in our relationship. I’m not an insecure person in general. That’s not my way. That’s not who I am. But I certainly think, if I were so inclined, I definitely have more right to it than he does.

I’ve never given him a reason to doubt me, my faithfulness, or my love. Even cuckolding was discussed in great, agonizing, excruciating detail, and (I thought) I made sure he understood the why’s and wherefore’s of me wanting to do this. It wasn’t a desire to sleep with other men. It was a desire to humiliate him, and nothing more.

Still, coming to this realization tonight has made me think that I need to put the brakes on cuckolding. The absolute last thing I need is for another week like the one I endured the first time I met Rocky. I don’t want kazander to feel pressured into doing something because he knows I want it, but then regret it later. And that’s the sort of thing that, once it’s done, there’s no going back.

If he’s uncomfortable, but doesn’t say anything because he knows I want it, that could ruin us. There’s no going back after that. After another man’s dick has been inside me, there’s nothing I could do or say to fix the problem.

He insists that won’t happen. But ya know what? It already has. He was uncomfortable when I met Rocky, and he didn’t say anything. That night, he didn’t say anything. The next day, he didn’t say anything. When I asked him (repeatedly) during those first three days what was wrong, I was met with answers like “Nothing.” Or “I’m just tired.” Or “Bad day at work.” It was only due to how well I know him that I was able to figure it out on my own.

But we’re still on the safe side of the line, here. Once he finally told me what had been bothering him (and finding out that everything he’d been angry about was pretty much the opposite of the truth, and that he’d put me through that hell for nothing), we were able to fix it. That won’t be possible once the dirty deed is done. He’ll never be able to forget that I had sex with someone else.

The reasons why I did it won’t matter.

So despite his protests, despite his insistence on meeting Rocky, I’m going to put an end to cuckolding here. With his lack of faith in me, nothing good can come of this.

Perhaps, in the future, we might revisit it again. Maybe.

So, going back to my previous point, it really, really fucking sucks to labor for years under the assumption that the person you love and trust with all your soul feels the same way, only to have that rug viciously pulled out from under you. It sucks to find out that the man you’ve dedicated your life to is still holding back.

It sucks to realize that your deepest, most intense feelings are unrequited.

I know that one day, he’ll finally be able to trust me the way I trust him. But that day certainly isn’t today.

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What this blog is

This is an 18+ blog about my day-to-day life as a Domina, wife, mother, and all that other crap. A chronicle of me. While this blog focuses primarily on the D/s aspect of my life and my relationships with Kazander, Steel, and Sounder, it is not exclusive to that subject, and I might talk about my kid, or my annoying mother, or my sister's pet cat, or whatever the hell I feel like talking about.

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Steel’s Blog: Grind_'n'_Throb

It begins over a friendly disagreement, during which you smile, roll your eyes, and say, “Go fuck yourself.”

“But, Ma’am, that’s physically impossible.”

You smirk and ask how certain I am of this. On a roll, I launch into a smug and tangential rant about the anatomical impossibility of an individual’s being capable of fucking oneself. Your response is to merely shrug, smile, and make a cryptic statement:

“Don’t be so sure…”

Later that evening, you tell me bedtime will be early, an hour early to be exact. The amused look on your face says it would be in my best interests not to argue.

Sometimes I fall into a vicious cycle where I’m mentally and emotionally frustrated and cannot manage to channel that energy into productive avenues. In the old days, this would lead to drinking or drugs, but I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I try to go about my day, generally fail to complete mundane tasks and end up feeling ‘stuck’ – this progresses into a cycle of mild depression, feelings of inertia, guilt over said inertia, and then on and on it goes until something snaps me out of it.

It feels like I’m seated in a car stuck in neutral yet compelled to rev the engine until it screams.

When did I last curl up in her lap? It’s been so long, I cannot recall. Despite numbered boxcars on the calendar and the disinterested faces of clocks, a concrete memory eludes me. Time, location, and date, they’re merely three dimensions after all.